


Raven's Roost

by snowmissus (soul_of_blaze)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, Ravens, lots of headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 22:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11815545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soul_of_blaze/pseuds/snowmissus
Summary: "He leaned against the sill, looking outside and searching for Ravenhill along the land. It could be spotted from here, mostly for the ravens to watch.“Bilbo,” a raspy voice croaked.The hobbit jumped away from the wide window, looking around in surprise. The ravens in the roost watched him cautiously and the one that had landed on his shoulder before had settled back with its mate. He turned his head and yelped, stepping back.An old and very tired raven shuffled on the sill, following his movements with beady eyes."Bilbo and Thorin undertake the responsibility of caretakers.





	Raven's Roost

**Author's Note:**

> "emsiecat said: Oooh hmm What about Bilbo and Thorin taking care of an injured raven together? They’re both saps and both protective, I think they’d make great raven parents, or raven doctors :P" 
> 
> I went out of hand again! But seriously, I was really excited about writing this and then it just kind of spun from there. I did some mini research while writing this too... so I didn't ever connect that Ravenhill = the ravens that the dwarves from Erebor communicate with... learned that! I've also always liked the idea of the dwarves having a secret raven-specific language so they also have their own set of ravens besides what would be Roac's brood I guess. In this AU at least! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

Erebor had, as long as Bilbo had been there at least, become a kingdom much larger than he had dreamed it being. There was nothing for Bilbo to truly compare to, though. He’d never seen a dwarf kingdom before. Thorin himself had said that nothing could compare to Erebor’s might when she was in her fully glory.

To which Bilbo definitely had to agree.

Once Erebor’s reconstruction had finished and it had once again been inhabited with a dwarf population, he could hardly believe it had ever been anything different.

Today, Bilbo hurried up the stairs that led to a small room on the side of the mountain. There were several of these peppered throughout the kingdom. Most of them were made for dwarrow to enjoy a breath of fresh air. Bilbo himself had become a constant visitor. The one in particular he made his way up to had a completely different purpose.

He pushed open the door as he reached the top of the stairs.

A flutter of wings and one of the Ereborean ravens flew to rest on his shoulder, tilting its head curiously at Bilbo.

_Kraa._

“Oh, is that so?” Bilbo smiled, stepping forward and forcing the raven off his shoulder.

He could not understand them like Thorin and his family could, but he would mimic conversations with the ravens. They seemed to enjoy it, at least.

There were a few stayed inside the roost, sleepily eyeing Bilbo as he approached the wide window. It was one of the only parts of the mountain that lay open like this. There was a lever and pulley system to close it off in times of storms or rain, which someone would come to do the night before a bad storm.

He leaned against the sill, looking outside and searching for Ravenhill along the land. It could be spotted from here, mostly for the ravens to watch.

“Bilbo,” a raspy voice croaked. 

The hobbit jumped away from the wide window, looking around in surprise. The ravens in the roost watched him cautiously and the one that had landed on his shoulder before had settled back with its mate. He turned his head and yelped, stepping back.

An old and very tired raven shuffled on the sill, following his movements with beady eyes.

“Oh! Roac!”

The raven cocked his head to the side. Bilbo rolled his eyes and reached into one of his pockets, producing a cookie for the old raven. He greedily took it, crunching it fast and giving a happy bob of his head. Roac bumped his beak against his fingers.

“That’s all I have with me,” Bilbo scolded, taking back his hand before he ended up with a nip. “What can we help you with?”

Roac made a noise that he had come to understand as frustration, for the ravens. “You must come with me.”

“Must I?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him. “Roac, it would be nice of you to tell me what you need. Should I fetch Thorin?”

“The King doesn’t need to be bothered with such matters,” grumbled Roac, flapping his wings, “but if you require reasoning. One of our chicks has injured her wing and she is growing sick. The dwarrow have always looked after us. You must bring her to this roost for safety.”

“Oh,” Bilbo frowned, feeling a pang, “of course. But, why couldn’t you bring her up to the roost?”

“I cannot carry her and it is dangerous for the others to try to bring her up here,” Roac preened his feathers, watching Bilbo still. “You can do it.”

“I must inform Thorin, regardless,” said Bilbo, after a moment. “Wait for me outside, then.”

Roac bobbed his head in assent. The hobbit watched him fly off the sill and as he dived out of sight. Bilbo set to hurry down the stairs, fast as his hobbity feet could carry him without slipping down the stairs. This time of day meant he was headed straight for the throne room.

The guards at the beginning of the long walkway up to the throne bowed to him.

“At your service, your highness,” said one, keeping their head bowed.

“His majesty’s court session has not ended quite yet,” said the other, straightening from her bow. “It is a long one today.”

“I shall just have to join the queue,” decided Bilbo, stepping past them and advancing on the tail end of the line. “I have matters of the state to speak about with him.”

Despite their words, Bilbo could see Thorin from his position at the end of the queue. The king leaned forward in his seat, eyebrows drawn together as the dwarf before him spoke. Bilbo thought whatever they were saying must be troubling, but then Thorin’s face cleared. He looked to his right, towards Balin. The two exchanged words before the dwarf who had spoken took their leave.

The process continued in this way, with Thorin consulting Balin on the issues presented to him before dismissing the dwarrow, until Bilbo found himself at the front of the queue. Thorin leaned against the arm of the throne, murmuring quietly to Balin until Bilbo cleared his throat politely. Balin smiled easily at him and nudged the king.

Thorin snapped to attention. A smile teased on his face.

“Your majesty,” flourished Bilbo, bowing.

“How might I help you?”

Bilbo straightened. “The ravens of Ravenhill seek our help. Roac himself approached me for help. Though he did not wish to bother you, I found it imperative that you were aware. I must meet him soon and we will travel to Ravenhill.”

Thorin drew his eyebrows together again. He didn’t look to Balin, instead leaning forward. “If you would wait—“

“It is clear you are far too busy to travel to Ravenhill, your majesty,” Bilbo interrupted him smoothly. “I shan’t be very long.”

The dwarf king sat back, expression muddled. “Would you like a guard?”

“That will not be necessary, either. I assure you that I can manage a short trip to and back from Ravenhill.”

Thorin continued on looking troubled. He rose to his feet suddenly and before Bilbo could understand what was happening, he found himself plunged into a soft, furry darkness. He fought back to fresh air and discovered his husband staring at him.

And missing his dark furred coat.

Bilbo sighed, directing an exasperated glance at Balin. The old advisor only grinned.

“The winter winds can be cruel. Allow me this, please.”

“Thori _mmph--_ “

The hobbit again found himself caught off guard. Thorin’s hands were soft against his face despite the years of callouses and scars. His lips moved softly against Bilbo’s, a thumb stroking his cheek just barely. It sent a shiver down his back. With the furred coat, their kiss stayed hidden from the dwarrow queued behind him.

It might look as though they were merely touching foreheads.

Bilbo pressed a firmer kiss to Thorin’s mouth, fisting a hand in the king’s shirt.

The moment passed when Balin cleared his throat. Bilbo split away from Thorin, breathless as he tugged the coat tighter around himself.

“If you insist,” he said, smiling at the king.

Before anything else could occur, the hobbit hurried down the lengthy walkway. He hoped that the dwarrow waiting didn’t notice his flushed face, or the king’s flustered state.

The longer walk from the throne to Erebor’s entrance gave him time for composure. In truth, the coat from Thorin wasn’t practical at all. It dwarfed him but it was admittedly warm. He could smell his dwarf within the furs. Bilbo did not remove the coat.

“Your maj… oh, your highness!” The dwarf at the entrance gates flushed in embarrassment, correcting themselves. “Forgive me, your highness. Where are you headed?”

“I am visiting the ravens as Ravenhill, thank you,” stated Bilbo, marching determinedly past the guard.

He understood their duties but he could never pass through the gates without having to report on his going and coming. Dwarrow were as nosy as hobbits.

_You’d think_ , Bilbo mused as he left Erebor _, that I could go and come from my husband’s kingdom freely. Without every dwarf nosing into my business._

As he came out into the valley that spread out from beneath Erebor, he pulled the coat tighter again. Thorin had been right. The winds were not kind. He turned around in a slow circle, scanning the sky for any sign of Roac.

Sudden weight on his shoulder alerted him to the raven’s presence. Roac cocked his head at Bilbo, beady eyes studying him.

“Thought you were the king,” rasped the raven, “but it is you, the little king.”

Bilbo chuckled softly. “The king expressed his concern about the winds.”

“And gave you his feathers for protection!” Roac squawked. Bilbo shook his head slightly, smiling.

“Of a sorts,” he decided. “Shall we go?”

-

Stepping into the king’s suite, and removing his crown as he went, Thorin looked about in search for his husband. Since Bilbo had parted from him at the throne, the hobbit had not reappeared. There had been no such promise, though.

It was more than possible that he had returned to their rooms after his business with the ravens.

Thorin set his crown down in its usual place, then noting that Bilbo’s circlet sat settled comfortably in its own place as well. _Ah_. The dwarf smiled. With no coat to shed, the dwarf headed deeper into their rooms.

As he opened the door to the sitting room, he could hear the soft tones of Bilbo’s voice. A fire had been stoked, crackling in the hearth warmly. Thorin watched as his husband moved around the room. He no longer wore Thorin’s coat. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his hair pulled back away from his face and he looked rightly attractive.

The hobbit was most definitely holding a conversation with someone. His voice did not hold the same tone it did when he talked to himself.

“What do you think? How does that feel?” Bilbo asked their apparent guest.

An answer came in the form of a soft chirp. The hobbit smiled and stepped back. “I take that as a yes!”

“Bilbo?” Thorin stepped closer from the doorframe. “What are you…?”

“Oh!” Bilbo jumped, then scowled at Thorin. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

“Perhaps it is revenge,” teased the dwarf, but his eyes drew back to the armchair Bilbo had been flitting about. “Did you bring a raven in here?”

“Oh, well, you see…”

“Bilbo,” Thorin frowned, approaching his husband and stopping at his side. The hobbit had outfitted a nest for the raven in the armchair. “Why did you not take them to the roost?”

“Well, we were tired,” protested Bilbo, “and Roac was very insistent that we needed to watch over her.”

“I see,” said Thorin, watching as the raven preened her feathers. “What is wrong?”

“She broke a wing,” Bilbo winced as he spoke, “and she was growing sick. We’ll keep her until she recovers from her sickness. I wouldn’t want the Ereborean ravens to grow sick as well.”

Thorin thought over what Bilbo had said and then nodded. “You are correct. We should not risk causing our raven population to grow sick as well.”

The raven watched, cocking her head to the side.

“I’ve got to bandage her wing; can you help?” Bilbo held up a roll of bandages. “She might not enjoy it much…”

Thorin nodded, sitting down on the edge of the armchair. The raven turned her attention towards him, chirping and hopping awkwardly out of the nest. Thorin held out his hands for her, a warm smile gracing his face as the chick nested happily into them.

“That is odd,” Bilbo murmured, but quickly began bandaging the wing. The raven squawked in protest but Thorin soothed her. The hobbit worked quickly, nimble fingers securing a knot before he sat back.

Immediately, the raven hopped out of Thorin’s hands in protest. She inspected the wing, pecking lightly and confusedly at the bandage.

“There we are,” said Bilbo, folding his arms over his chest. “I will fetch something from the kitchens for her, if you do not mind waiting for dinner.”

Thorin shook his head, staying seated on the armchair. Bilbo left with a mumble. The raven hopped about her makeshift nest but refused to approach Thorin again. By the time Bilbo returned, Thorn had been carrying on a one-sided conversation with the raven. She might be able to understand him but clearly this raven had not learned to speak Westron. She would only chirp or _kraa_ at him.

The dwarf sat up, feeling his face flush as his hobbit husband stared at him. He held a plate of meat, Thorin thought, along with smallish bowl of water.

“The Khuzdul is bad enough,” grumbled Bilbo as he set the food before the raven, “but then you have that raven speech!”

“It’s only a dialect of Khuzdul, amralime,” retorted Thorin, smiling teasingly at him. “The Ereborean ravens cannot learn Westron like the ones that hail from Ravenhill.”

“I know, believe me,” said Bilbo, watching the raven as she inspected the plate and bowl. “I brought dinner up for us as well, if you’re interested.”

After they had dinner, Thorin expected they would retire to the bedroom. Bilbo would grow tired after a large dinner and the dwarf himself was easily persuaded to join his husband. He stepped away from the sink and wiped his hands against the hand towel. Bilbo had left the kitchen ahead of him. As he walked down the hall, Thorin found himself stopping back at the sitting room.

Mostly because the fire yet burned and he could hear Bilbo speaking.

Thorin also discovered his coat has been draped over the couch, which Bilbo currently tucked into the corners. The raven had nestled back into her nest during their meal. She watched both of them but didn’t move an inch.

“Bilbo?”

“Oh, there you are!” The hobbit didn’t glance up from the couch. “Might you bring pillows?”

“What?” Thorin drew his eyebrows together. “Are you… sleeping in here?”

Bilbo’s head snapped up. “I can’t leave her on her own! Ravens are social creatures, you should know that.”

“Of course I do…” Thorin watched him in confusion.

“Hm,” Bilbo grumbled, standing up fully, “well, _you_ don’t have to stay here.” He went back to arranging the coat on the couch.

Thorin came back with the pillows he could carry and one of the furs from their bed. The hobbit looked at him as he stepped into the sitting room. His expression softened slightly.

“We might as well be comfortable,” he said, and that was that.

The next days passed in a similar manner. Though Thorin had to attend to the kingdom, he excused Bilbo of the majority of his consort duties for the time being. It had almost been a week since they had taken in the raven. She no longer dealt with any sickness. In fact, it also seemed that her wing might be almost healed too. He hadn’t seen her fly and Bilbo hadn’t reported any flying, but the raven was far more chipper than before.

Bilbo had also taken to calling her Bella. Which Thorin had adopted, because referring to her as the raven continuously felt tiresome.

The morning of the sixth day, Thorin pulled on his coat. He could smell Bilbo in the fur, which had become a great comfort to him in the past few days. Whenever he found himself overly stressed, he could bury his nose in the fur and seek out the scent of his husband.

It was the closest thing he had to Bilbo on most days.

He suppressed a yawn, heading out and stopping in the sitting room. Bella sat on Bilbo’s shoulder, preening her feathers. She squawked loudly when she saw Thorin and flapped her wings.

“Off for the day?” Bilbo asked, looking over his free shoulder at the dwarf king.

“Aye,” Thorin said, coming forward. He planted a soft kiss on Bilbo’s forehead, lingering there as the hobbit drew his fingers up to tickle the inside of his wrist.

“Before you go,” said Bilbo, pulling away from him and standing up. Bella steadied herself, sticking to her position on the hobbit’s shoulder. “I should tell you. I am taking Bella up to the raven’s roost today.”

“Oh?” Thorin frowned. “But she cannot fly yet.”

“Well, no,” said Bilbo, amusement in his voice. “But she is no longer sick. Her wing will likely be healed soon enough. I think she has been away from other ravens too long, though, and even the Ereborean ravens will make good company for her. Besides, then Roac will be able to check on her.”

“You’re right,” Thorin said, watching as Bella cocked her head, “she belongs with her kind.”

“Right,” Bilbo nodded and leaned up, kissing Thorin’s cheek. “I will see you for supper, shall I?”

“Aye,” he responded, distracted as Bilbo left the room with his raven companion.

Thorin felt the day pass in a strange daze. By the time he finished with the court and meetings with dozens of officials, the dwarf realized the end of the day had snuck up on him. He found himself standing outside the doors into the king’s suite. The doors opened of their own accord, or he thought, until Bilbo poked his head outside with a frown.

 He couldn’t recount what happened throughout the day when Bilbo asked him. The hobbit removed his coat for him, pushing Thorin to sit before the fire. He found Bilbo next to him a moment later, a book in his lap. However, the hobbit regarded him instead of the book.

“Are you well? I received a note from Balin that you were not present today.”

Thorin shook his head, looking back at the fire. He chewed his lip. It had been on his mind all day, but to bring it up to Bilbo. He feared his hobbit’s response.

Bilbo sighed, but he did not push Thorin. The dwarf saw him open the book out of the corner of his eye. They had learned how to be honest and open with each other, but at times Bilbo would not force Thorin to talk if he did not want to. There was concern on Bilbo’s face, however, and that twisted the ache in the dwarf’s gut.

He could not stand it.

“Bilbo, you’re not…” He didn’t dare finish the thought.

Bilbo peered up from the book in his lap. “What?”

“You do not feel like a cooped up raven, do you?” Thorin worried his lip.

The hobbit stared at him in surprise. His expression softened. Their hands came together on the small sliver of cushion between them. “Oh, Thorin. I am _very_ happy here.” He set his book aside.

In a moment, Thorin found himself with a lapful of hobbit. A very, very amorous hobbit, as Bilbo kissed him until he felt breathless. Bilbo grinned, dropping his robe down off his shoulders and curling his fingers in the dwarf’s hair.

“There is no place I’d rather be,” he said quietly, holding gaze with Thorin, “than with you.”


End file.
